Sweet Dreams
by vintagesheep
Summary: She was incredible, and the Norwegian could see that. She was able to intimidate and allure him all at the same time. It worried him, though, that he felt attracted to her. He was on the run, fleeing from his capturer, and he couldn't risk getting her and her brother caught and slaughtered. Things were becoming difficult, and his desire to go home was unbearable. {Norway/Ireland}
1. Chapter 1

Howdy. So, this is a collaborative work of SanguisRubeus and lastingJavelin.

Just for a little bit of backstory, Niklas is SanguisRubeus' muse of Norway while Barry and Aislinn are lastingJavelin's Irelands. Of course, this story is an AU and none of the aforementioned characters are countries.

**Disclaimer: Wow neither of us own Hetalia. We'd love to, but we don't. We only own the work we have written and our muses. Thank you.**

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Running.

Niklas looked around the country he had fled to and wondered if he was ever going to be safe. He knew that he was lucky to be in such a remote place in Ireland, but...there always was a chance they could get him. All he had to do was keep a low profile, and everything was going to be alright. Niklas was lucky to have learned some Irish when he was younger. He walked into a small bar and ended up getting a job with a sheep herder named Barry. Barry needed an extra pair of hands, and he wasn't going to make his "perfect" sister do the hard work when this guy was more than wiling to do it for room and board. To Barry, it was more of a benefit than a loss. So he told the blonde guy with the funny accent that he was going to have wait where he stood until he told his sister.

Barry soon went to go speak with his sister, Aislinn. Aislinn made the town butter while Barry tended to the sheep they owned. Since they were so busy doing their jobs, their barn wasn't being taken care of like they wanted. That was where Niklas came in; he was going to make sure the barn was in tip top shape or else he would have to deal with Aislinn.

At first Niklas was a bit skeptical of how strong the small Irishwoman was, but then he saw her beat the shit out of some really tall Scotsman. He remembered staring at her in awe only to freeze up when she sent him a look.

"I'll make sure worse happens to you if you don't get back to your work," She promised.

The blonde did not need to be told twice. Of course he wouldn't lie, getting up before sunrise and returning to sleep long after sundown was hard to do. This sort of work was something Niklas was not used to, but if he was going to stay hidden, he couldn't return to his former life of money, champagne and seemingly invisible servants. If someone had told him a year ago that he was going to be living like this, he would have laughed at their face and called them an idiot. 'Guess I'm the idiot now,' he teased himself.

It had been two weeks since Niklas had been working with the two Irish siblings, and so far things were going smoothly. He hadn't fought with either of them. Though, he never really did get much of a chance to converse. When he did speak, it was mostly the standard things to say. The less he spoke of himself the better it would be for all of them.

The days were full of greuling, hard work. In the nights, however, he found himself tortured by memories of all that happened to him. Niklas hated going to sleep because of all the waking up. Sometimes he would think he was back at that horrible place still tied to that bed. He wondered about his siblings, being a triplet he had always had some sort of connection with his brothers. Were they okay? Were they next? What about his brother's fiancée? When Niklas and the blonde girl had escaped, they went separate ways... Was she going to be alright? He didn't even know.

He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. Maybe things were looking up and he would get to see his siblings. Perhaps his brother would once again know the comfort of his fiancée. Getting comfortable, he let himself fall asleep, dreaming of the perfect world where nothing bad ever happened.

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Now, we know everyone is wondering 'WHAT NIKLAS IS A TRIPLET IMPOSSIBLE.' SanguisRubeus has two Norway muses while lastingJavelin has one. We thought we could combine them in this to make the story line better flow and more interesting. Also, the Scotsman Rory mentioned is SanguisRubeus' Scotland muse. Just if you didn't catch that. We hope you have enjoyed and look forward to more chapters.


	2. Chapter 2

Whispers here's chapter two

**Disclaimer: No. We do not own Hetalia but wouldn't it be nice. Everything would be eighteen times gayer.**

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It wasn't easy tending to a large farm and making butter everyday, but somehow Aislinn and her brother managed.  
It was most definitely not the lifestyle she had wanted to live, but she knew it made her brother happy to have someone he loved on the acreage with him. It made the hard work completely worth it.

The work load had become a burden, and Barry had mentioned to her several times about hiring a few extra hands. The thought made Aislinn fret, and she wondered if they had the money to hire anyone. It wasn't too long after they found a solution.

"Ah, so you wan' a job?" Barry expertly hid his excitement, crossing his arms over his dirty smock. The man before him was different than those he had met before. His hair was blonde, and his skin was the colour of porcelein. His eyes, a deep indigo, showed no interest, yet they held no disinterest.

"Ja- Yes. You don't have to pay me. I just need a place to stay. I'm simply seeking shelter." The Irishman raised a brow, the accent sounding queer to his ears. The words his spoke, however, sparked his interest, and he nodded his head. If he just needed a place to stay and some food, he and his sister might have found some extra help.

"Okay. I mean, I'll have to speak to my little sister about it. I might be the man of the house, but that doesn't mean I have all the say." The man before him must have thought he was joking because he snorted in retort. Barry just moved away and disappeared behind a heavy door.

"Who in the hell were you talking to?" Jeez, why did she have to pop up out of no where?

"His name's Niklas. He wants a job, and before you say no, he just wants a place to stay and some food. I figured we could use the help, and that's much cheaper than paying him." There was a tone of hopefulness his voice held, and he watched as his thought this over. She was smart, there was no doubting that, and he knew she'd make the right decision.

"Alright. We'll house him. But so help him, God, if he starts acting the maggot," she warned, making her way back into the kitchen. It was getting late, and with all the chores having been done, supper needed to be fixed.

Barry waddled back through the door and motioned for Niklas to come to him. When he did, the Irishman wrapped an arm around his neck and began to chuckle.

"She agreed to let you stay as long as you don't act the maggot when you're working. My little sister is a tad hard to get on with, but as long as you aren't cheek or banjaxed, we'll all be having the craic!" And without another word or any explanation, he pulled the man inside to be greeted by his sister.

"You seem confused, gurrier. Is my brother being a gobdaw again?" Aislinn might not have looked like much, but all one-hundred-fifty-two centimeters of her were intimidating. Niklas found himself staring, unsure of how to answer.

He would have spoked, of course, but he hadn't the slightest idea of what had been said. Banjaxed? Acting the maggot? Having the craic? Sure, he spoke Irish Gaelic, but this most definitely had to be slang.

"I beg your pardon? Gurrier? Gobdaw?" He found himself asking, awkwardly placing his back against the door. Aislinn rolled her eyes.

"Forget it. I'm making dinner. Have Barry show you where you'll stay and where to wash up." She turned her back before opening her mouth to say, "I'm Aislinn. It's grand to have met you."

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Okay wow that's a lot of Irish slang for you guys. Allow me to elaborate

Acting the maggot - Playing around

Cheek - smug, backtalk, disrespectful

Banjaxed - broken or useless

Having the craic - (pronounced crack) have a good time

Gurrier - hooligan

Gobdaw - idiot, dumbass


	3. Chapter 3

And here is chapter three. Please enjoy!

**Disclaimer: Still, we do not own Hetalia or any of the characters. We simply own the creativity used to create this story. **

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Things had began to look up for Niklas about a month into his new life. The barn and the area around it were looking better and better by the day. Niklas was planning on repainting the house once he finished fixing all that needed to be. Currently, he was working on the roof as it didn't have all of the shingles on it.  
Since it always seemed to rain, he felt the need to work on that first.

But by god was it all so hard! If Niklas was able to return to his former life, he would make sure to be extra nice to the staff, especially the roof guy, for the rest of his life. It was about midday when he decided to take a break. He got off of the roof and moved into the shade to rest for a bit. As much as he wanted to close his eyes and take a good nap, he could feel the eyes of Aislinn O'Shea on him. So he kept his break short and went back to work.

When he stopped for the evening, he could feel his sore muscles aching for the relief of bed. Not even thinking about dinner that evening, he went straight to his room and fell into a deep sleep. That night his dreams were different. They weren't plaguing him with horrific memories. When he awoke, however, he couldn't remember for the life of him what they entailed.

Soon, the roof was completed and he found himself in a great mood once he laid the final shingle. To say he was elated would have been such an understatement. If he had a phone, he would have taken a picture of his handiwork. He had never done something so fantastic as to make something useable. Sure, his former life made him much more money by sitting in an office all day while his two brothers were running buckwild with their shares of the fortune. Although he was quite attached to his money and refused to let anyone touch it, he would have traded it in if that meant that he was going to make yet another roof.

He had finished the roof early and began working on some other easy tasks before heading inside to eat dinner. The blonde had the strangest feeling when he was washing his hands. His nose had bled lightly that morning. It was odd. He never had a bloody nose unless he had been punched in the face. He shook the thought from his head and headed down the stairs for supper.

Once dinner was finished and the dishes had been cleaned, Niklas moved to the bathroom for a much needed shower. He felt odd once again, though it was different this time. His throat had a tickle and his legs were shaking beneath him. Perhaps he needed a good night's rest...

That night, his dreams were not pleasant. In his dreams, he was back in that wretched house, that horrible man murmuring to another in some unfathomable language. He was still tied to that bed, and Niklas just knew that his captor was going to come back with some more torture. He could hear his brother's fiancé screaming in the background. He kept taking deep breaths and wished this was going to be over soon.

When he woke up, he tried to sit and open his eyes but the more he tried, the more he couldn't. What was wrong with him? He wanted to shout to Barry or Aislinn for help but no noise sounded from his throat. What the hell? His worrying increased, and he intently listened to the footsteps and voices moving closer to him.

"…Can't make him work when he looks like he's about to meet the Good Lord and baby Jesus…"

"Fine, don't make him work. He can take a sick day."

"…Check up on him every once in awhile?"

"Barry-"

"Please? I don't want 'im keeling over."

"Fine, but if he's faking it, I swear I'll-"

"Shh. You don't want to wake him."

Niklas didn't know if he was dreaming or if this was really reality. Sometimes he felt the gentlest of hands on him, but when he would open his eyes for the briefest of moments, he was faced with the coldest of glares. It seemed so strange and surreal, but soon his cloudy haze began to fade and he began to awaken from his drowsy state. He opened his eyes and tried to sit up.

"Are you gone in the head? You aren't well enough to sit." Aislinn told him, gently pushing him back down into the mattress.

It was a surprisingly soft voice he heard unlike all of the other time she spoke to him. He was going to speak but his throat was too dry. He looked at the nightstand, took the water there, and drank it all.

It seemed he had been out for a week. No one was sure what had gotten him so sick. Rory, the tall Scotsman that had his ass handed to him by Aislinn, was the only doctor in town that still made house calls. The moment he learned that Niklas was awake, he went to the house as fast as he could to make sure the Norwegian was functioning as well as he seemed to be.

Several times Niklas had been trying to get up to return back to work, but each time Aislinn pushed him back on the bed and would stare at him as if she was daring him to try it again. Rory thought it was hilarious how they acted around each other. They almost seemed married! During his week of observation he had began to notice something different about his patient..

Pulling Aislinn aside, he took a deep breath and began to explain it to her in the simplest way he could manage.

This sickness was the body's response for someone who was mentally stressed out and had been over worked. Considering where Niklas was before he got to Ireland and him working hard enough to forget his trauma, it all made sense. But Rory didn't know that and only assumed that Aislinn was pushing him too hard. He told her that he needed to relax a bit and make sure he took decent breaks.

Niklas had no idea what they had been talking about, but he had gotten comfortable again and fell asleep. He once again couldn't remember this dream, and when he woke, he saw Aislinn staring at him.

"Who were the people you mentioned?" He heard her asking him. "Svein, Håkon, and Åsdis, I mean."

He looked out the window; it was raining. When his brothers and he were small, they liked to play in the rain. If he closed his eyes, he could still see them all playing in the rain. He we do anything to have those memories once again become his reality.

He looked back at Aislinn, the memory fading.

"No one special. Just imaginary friends..."

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So that's chapter three! I hope you guys enjoyed. Do feel free to follow and favourite and write a review!


	4. Chapter 4

Alright, and here is chapter 4. It's a bit longer than the rest. We're trying to write them longer each time. It's a competition.

**Disclaimer: We do not own Hetalia. We wouldn't be writing fanfiction if we did. Or maybe we would.**

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It had been exhilirating to work with the Norwegian. Every day he put in more effort, and it seemed he felt very rewarded to work with his hands and  
accomplish something. Barry was thrilled, knowing that hiring this fellow on was the best decision he and his sister could ever make.

One night, after a ridiculously tiring work day, the Irishman noticed a behavioural change. Niklas, though ever stoic and silent, seemed more aloof than  
usual. Barry had tried blaming it on homesickness and brushed it away. It was only when the blonde had eaten less at dinner did the redhead really  
worry. He confronted his sister that night while she cleaned dishes.

"Aislinn, do you think Niklas might be sick? Or maybe depressed?" He earned himself an aggravated glare and pursed lips.

"Why do you ask? Did he not work hard today?" Barry let out a groan, wondering why in the hell his sister seemed so eager to rid them of their new  
help.

"No," he began, "I just have noticed he's flah'ed out. Do you think something is wrong?"

"We'll check on him tomorrow morning, alright? If he's ill, we'll call Rory, if he's not, he'll work." The Irishman nodded though he wondered if Aislinn would  
be alright seeing the Scotsman once again. Hadn't they just gone through a break up? Perhaps that wasn't important to the girl. Perhaps all that  
mattered was their worker's health.

That next morning, Barry was up bright and early, listening to the soft clanging of dishes sounding in the kitchen. The smell accompanying the cacophony  
was delicious, and he let it carry him down the stairs. There was his sister, turning off the stove and setting the food on the table. Niklas was no where  
to be found downstairs, and Barry wondered if he was still asleep, tired from the previous workload bestowed upon them. After letting his sister know  
he was going to wake the blonde, he made his way upstairs and into the guest bedroom. The sight was almost pitiful, and the redhead had to call for  
his sister to follow him up.

"...Can't make him work when he looks like he's about to meet the good Lord and baby Jesus..." He told her in retort to her displeased sigh.

"Fine. Don't make him work; he can take a sick day." She replied with a shrug, glancing up at her brother before turning to leave.

"...Check up on him every once in awhile?" Aislinn stopped, pivoting back around to look at her brother incredulously. What made him think she wanted  
to look after the brat while Barry worked?

"Barry-"

"Please? I don't want 'im keeling over." Barry received a sigh, and he knew he had won.

"Fine, but if he's faking it, I swear i'll-"

"Shh. You don't want to wake him." No, Aislinn really didn't. Sure, she'd love for him to get better and be alive and well, but the less she had to deal with  
the guy, the better.

Days passed and Niklas had yet to show any signs of getting better. He had become feverish, and Aislinn always pressed a cool cloth to his head in  
hopes to break it. It had helped, she found, and after a week's time, he was awake and trying to force himself into an upright position.

"Are you gone in the head? You aren't well enough to sit." And she pushed him back into the pillows, voice hushed. Niklas looked surprised by the  
softness of her voice but said nothing. Instead, he grabbed the glass of water on his bedside and drank it all in one sitting. Aislinn took the glass from  
him, telling him to stay put, and went downstairs where Barry was already explaining to Rory the severity of Niklas' illness.

"He's awake now and could use a proper check-up." Aislinn mused, filling the glass once again to take back up. Rory did it for her on his way up,  
checking over the man thoroughly and making his diagnosis. He came back down a while later, telling the Irish siblings of his prognosis. It came as a  
shock to the both of them, hearing that Niklas was suffering from some traumatic experience. They did as Rory told them, making sure to let him rest.

Aislinn was put in charge of taking care of him while Barry worked. They still had to get things done if they wanted to bring in income.  
The Irishwoman didn't let Niklas lift a finger for the next couple of days. Instead, she kept him company and brought him coffee or tea during the day.  
Even if she seemed demanding and uncaring, she wasn't. In fact, getting Niklas better was her top priority. On a rainy afternoon, Aislinn came up with a  
tray of coffee and two mugs, watching raindrops race down the window.

"Who are the people you mentioned?" She asked him after setting down the tray, taking a seat on his bed. "Svein, Håkon, and Åsdis, I mean." Niklas  
didn't seem to want to answer the question, turning his gaze to the rain.

"No one special. Just imaginary friends..." Imaginary friends? This boy really had lost his mind, hadn't he? Rolling her eyes, the Irishwoman grabbed his  
arm and forced him to look at her.

"Don't lie to me. Just because you're sick doesn't mean you're immune to my wrath. Who are they? You mentioned them a lot in your sleep." She  
listened to the groan escaping the man and fought back the urge to smack him upside the head.

"Why can't you just drop it okay?" Aislinn let go of his arm. She was taken aback by his snappy tone, and she wasn't quite sure how she was going to  
respond to this.

"Fine. You just...you sounded worried about them. I thought I could help." When the Irishwoman stood to leave, Niklas let out another groan and found  
himself frustrated. It wasn't like he had meant to be an asshole to the person helping him during this hardship. Alas, he had snapped, and he needed to  
make this right. Before she could leave, he grabbed her hand in his and pulled her back down on to the bed.

"Svein and Håkon are my brothers okay? Åsdis, well, she's my brother's fiancée. Not that any of it matters. My two brothers did some things they  
shouldn't have so now Åsdis and I are paying for it. Please, I don't want to talk about it right now. Just know I'm probably never going to see them  
again." The response wasn't much, and the redhead frowned. What had happened to them, and why wouldn't Niklas see them?

Then she sighed. How many times had she been rude to him? Too many to count, she noticed. Perhaps her bitchy attitude and blunt retorts weren't  
making him feel right at home with her and her brother. Some compassion could go a long way, and she decided she should start now.

"Look, I know I haven't exactly been nice since you've started working here, but I want you to know, I do care. A lot, in fact. And if you want to open  
your gob and tell me what happened, i'll listen." Niklas nodded at her, uttering a quiet 'thanks' and turning his attention back to the window. Aislinn took in  
a breath of air and wondered just what in the hell she had gotten herself in to.

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Sorry for the delay on this chapter. Things got really busy for the both of us. The next chapter should be up next Monday

Irish Slang

flah'ed out - tired

Gone in the head - crazy

Gob - mouth


End file.
